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𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒

𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐀, a sharp frown curling her lips. She despised that woman. Truly so. The woman was a bitter old hag, who had nothing better to do with her life than to breathe down her and Helaena's necks.

Her breath being horrible did not help matters.  It's almost like the woman took a bite out of a clove of garlic just to spit her. She missed the septa at Dragonstone, sure she didn't like that woman much either but at least her breath didn't smell like something died in the back of it.

She was sure it was the Queen who made sure their time was spent in misery, something about religious penance she was sure.

They were Valyrians not Andals, they should be allowed to worship the Fourteen Flames, not that Jaehaera believed in them much either, but still! The faith of the seven felt...they felt too human in Jaehaera's eyes.

Isn't that the point of faith, to believe in something bigger than you, something inconceivable something...something—just something other.

"Princess, eyes on your work!" The Septa—who Jaehaera never bothered to learn the name of—scolded when  Jaehaera's eyes drifted to the window for the fifth time that hour.

Jaehaera felt annoyance bubble in her chest and shot a sharp glare at the woman, her fingers curling dangerously hard around her loom fitted a piece of black cloth that she had embroidered with an intricate silver seahorse. The Septa had given her dirty look for her choice of colour and image.

She had given Helaena an even dirtier look for choosing gold cloth and blue thread in honour of Dreamfyre.

"I've nearly finished," she said in return.

"Perhaps, but nearly isn't finished," the woman snapped, "Concentrate."

Jaehaera rolled her eyes subtly as the woman turned away to look over Helaena's work. She and the older girl shared an exasperated look before looking down at their work to avoid further scolding.

It didn't take long for Jaehaera to finish her seahorse and sew the words : "The old, the true, the brave", into the cloth. She didn't mind embroidery, she actually quite liked it and sewing despite her mothers less than kind disposition towards the activity. She found it soothing, it was slow, and minute. It helped pass the time when there was nothing to do and it was useful.

She looked out the window in Maegor's holdfast and felt a small flicker of impatience in her chest just as her bonded suddenly shot into view with a defending shriek, large tan wings beating like thunder.

She twisted the silver ring on her finger, a gift from Ser Harwin, still too big for her fingers for regular use, but not overly so. It was a dragon,it's bat like wings spread and curled around her finger, the spines down its back a molten gold.